


Something Stupid

by mindy_makru_tutu



Category: 30 Rock
Genre: Bathroom Sex, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-09
Updated: 2009-12-09
Packaged: 2019-08-28 01:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16713535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindy_makru_tutu/pseuds/mindy_makru_tutu
Summary: Jack doesn't like to share his bathroom. But he makes an exception for Liz.





	Something Stupid

Jack does not like to share his bathroom.   
  
Perhaps this is the result of growing up as middle child in a large family, the younger brother of two rather volatile sisters who hogged the family bathroom. Perhaps he views the bathroom that now adjoins his office as a status symbol, a professional perk he worked hard to attain. Perhaps both of these things contribute. But whatever the reason, Jack is greatly possessive of his private bathroom. Only a select few people have been allowed to use his facilities. Not even Jonathan is allowed unauthorized access. And only one particular staff member is admitted in there to clean, at a very specific time.  
  
For this reason, Jack is not pleased to walk into his office and see the bathroom door slightly ajar. His displeasure dissipates rapidly, however, when he pushes through the door to see Liz standing in only her jeans and bra, scooping water over her head. He stops and stares. Her shoes are discarded on the floor in a mangy heap, her glasses have been rinsed and sit on the counter and on the toilet seat is one of his fresh, crisp dress shirts.  
  
“Oh, hey…” she says as she straightens, spotting him in the reflection of the mirror. Water runs off her hair and down her back. “I hope you don’t mind,” she adds, as if her half-naked appearance were perfectly routine for them. Which it sort of is – just not in this context.  
  
“What happened to you?” he asks, his concern only just overpowering his desire.  
  
“Augh,” she grimaces at herself in the mirror: “Long story short?”  
  
Jack nods: “Please,” hoping the explanation for her appearance and her obvious dishevelment will not deter him from doing what he is already imagining doing. It hardly surprises him that she is immune to the sort of opportunity this situation provides, or to the dark spark he knows his eyes must exhibit. Liz is generally slow to pick up on such things. And he rather delights in leading the way, being witness to her realization and surprise.  
  
“Basically…” she huffs, sticking her head under the facet to wash off what looks to him like yogurt: “I said something really stupid that kinda got around thanks to Tracy and Jenna. And apparently, throwing food at me is still the writers’ preferred method of letting me know they disapprove.”  
  
“I see,” Jack murmurs. He clicks the door shut: “Well. Let me help you.”  
  
“Thanks...” She flicks her hair back in a move not unlike an erotic shampoo commercial. The difference being that Liz is not intending to sell anything. Which isn’t to say Jack isn’t buying.  
  
He pulls a towel off the rack as he moves closer, standing behind her and starting to rub dry her dripping hair. Liz hums, eyes closing over as he uses both hands buried in the thick towel. He smiles, gaze drifting down over her bared torso and plain white bra, see-through in the places where it’s wet. The lighting over the wide mirror makes it easy for him to see the outline of her nipples through the thin material and he automatically licks his lips, wanting to see them stiffen. He wants to make them sit up and beg for his touch, his tongue. And he wants to hear her moan when he gives it. His hands drop to her shoulders, then lower, and lower still. Dabbing her skin, stroking her curves, his body pressing closer.  
  
Liz opens her eyes, tips her head to one side. “Are you helping me?” she mutters: “Or enjoying yourself?”  
  
Jack smirks over her shoulder, eyes meeting hers in the mirror. “I’m enjoying you.”  
  
“I see,” she hums.  
  
“Er, Lemon?” he asks, eyes narrowed at her chest: “What is that on your bra?”  
  
She looks down at the bright red stain on the white material. “Yeah, I think it’s jelly from a donut. I’m never gonna get that out, right?”  
  
Jack drops his hands, puts aside the towel. “Please correct me if I am wrong here, but are you actually telling me that there was…food on your breast and you just…cavalierly washed it off?”  
  
She blinks. “Um…Yes?”  
  
Jack waggles his head. “Really, Elizabeth. Have you no sense of--?”   
  
“What’s the matter?” she asks, forehead creased. “And don’t call me that, you know I think it’s weird.”  
  
“Okay, here’s the deal--” He takes her shoulders in his hands, pinning her eyes in the mirror as he tells her pressingly: “From now on, if there is any circumstance where there happens to be anything on, or near, your breast -- any jelly or cream or custard or the like -- anything edible, and particularly anything sweet, it is imperative, you hear me, imperative that you come to me immediately.”  
  
“It is?” She makes a face. “Why?”  
  
Jack sighs. “Liz, it’s about time you started to think of me as…well, as--”  
  
”My boobie janitor?” she suggests impishly.  
  
He nods. “Precisely.”  
  
“Really?” she smirks: “Cos I was just joking.”  
  
Jack waves a hand: “Something along those lines, at least.”  
  
“Huh...” She bobs her head a few times: “I’ve…never had one of those.”  
  
“Well, you have one now.” He grasps her shoulder, turns her quickly: “Come here.”  
  
As if to illustrate his point, as soon as she’s facing him, Jack bends and begins to lap up the droplets that have fallen from her hair to her chest, that are still falling to her chest and shoulders, that also decorate her neck. He rids her of all of them. He licks, kisses, cleans her, all with a mouth hot and open and eager. Then he pulls one cup of her bra down with his fingertips and sucks her into his mouth, swirling his tongue about her, making her flesh stiffen on his tongue.   
  
Liz lets out a low moan, leaning back against the counter, hands lifting to his shoulders. He knows how much she loves this part. He loves it too. Especially because he knows that this is the part that gets her wet. Her hands move to his neck as he unzips her jeans, loosens them enough that he can slip his hands inside and cup her bottom. He squeezes, causing her body to arch and push her deeper into his mouth. Instinctively, he sucks harder, eyes closed, nostrils flared, filled with the scent of her.   
  
“Jack…” she murmurs breathily with a glance at the door: “are you…sure about this? Isn’t this a bit stupid? I mean, Jonathan--”  
  
He tugs her hips towards him, kisses between her breasts. “He wouldn’t dare.”  
  
He moves to her other breast, but his mouth disengages and his eyes pop open when he comes across something foreign in her jeans, something he’s never found in there before. They both straighten as he pulls out a single Cheerio and stares at it.  
  
“Ah, okay. That was them,” Liz points out hastily: “Not me. Did I mention I got pummelled with food?” She takes the cereal off him, throws it away: “Never mind that…please--” she nods, cheeks flushed: “please continue.”  
  
Jack does. Not just because she says to, but because he wants to. Also because sleeping with Liz Lemon is often a surprising, even at times, surreal experience. But it’s one he wouldn’t give up for anything. It’s hardly the first time he’s found food in her clothes either, he doubts it’ll be the last. It’s never been enough to put him off entirely. In fact, he finds it, well…if not sexy then, at least, distinctively endearing.   
  
He kisses her on the mouth, once and quickly. Then lifts her wrists, brings her hands to his belt, where she immediately starts unbuckling him. Eyes steady on her face, Jack undoes his own shirt, his tie, feeling her hands slide up his sides as soon as she’s pushed down his trousers and boxers. He unhooks her bra and flings it aside then draws her up against him, pressing her nakedness into his as he kisses her deeper.   
  
Moments later, he descends her body, hands slipping back into her pants, this time cupping bare skin. His fingers press into her ass as his mouth moves lower, sucking her hipbone, kissing her belly. Above him, Liz’s breath hitches. And Jack pauses to gaze up at her. He likes to take time to witness every response she gives him, every sigh or moan or wordless encouragement. Mostly because it’s like she is discovering each sensation in that very moment. Or for the first time. There are many things he has introduced her to, in fact. Many things Liz has experienced for the first time in his arms. It binds her to him in a way that makes his heart ache with tenderness.   
  
That feeling is a first for Jack.   
  
He draws down her pants, eyes focused on her face. Kisses her mons as he divests her of the last of her underwear too. Liz bites her lip, gazing down at him. Then, as he straightens and lifts her to the counter, she utters three little words that make him stop entirely.  
  
There are many surprising things about being with Liz. One of the most surprising though is when she says ‘I love you’. Jack has always been a man of words, a man of action. He has never hesitated to reciprocate those words, never been one to imbue them with more depth than they deserve. Neither has he ever experienced such a strong reaction to hearing them directed at him than when he hears them from Liz Lemon’s lips. Possibly because he knows they’re the truth. What’s also true is that he loves her in a way that words can’t fully describe.  
  
Which is why it’s lucky they have this other way to express themselves.  
  
He moves in, cups her face with one hand. And whispers to her tenderly: “I love when you say stupid things.”  
  
Liz’s face breaks into a wide grin. “That’s good, Jack,” she says, between kisses: “That’s…really good…cos I do that a lot. You might’ve noticed.”   
  
He kisses her neck, hands in her hair, his voice coming out as part-moan: “Then why don’t I find you naked in my bathroom alot more?”  
  
“Firstly, I was not naked,” she says.  
  
“Might as well have been,” he mumbles.  
  
“Secondly,” she adds, rather too rationally for a naked woman about to engage in a mid-afternoon quickie: “if I got naked, or even half-naked, every time I said something stupid, neither of us would ever get any work done.”  
  
Jack’s eyes are half-lidded as he gazes at her. “I don’t care about that so much right now.”   
  
All he cares about in fact, is that Liz should not be capable of listing things in point form at this time. Not when his hands are all over her and his tongue is laving at his favourite spot on her neck. She shouldn’t even be able to count to two. He needs to make her forget the number two, her own name and everything except how much she loves his hands on her body, his body against hers. Before Jack can do any thing towards achieving this end, however, Liz curls a hand around his erection, effectively ridding him of all thought and purpose.   
  
“I noticed,” she muses, dark eyes open as she leans in to kiss him.  
  
Her breasts brush through his chest hair while her hand strokes him gently. And Jack is the one who instantly forgets everything but the need to be inside her, how good it’s going to feel when he is. He parts her legs and steps between them, bowing his head to deepen their kiss. She moans against his mouth when he parts her sex with two fingers, starts to spread the moisture that’s been brewing there. He breaks their kiss suddenly though, bending to kiss her thighs. Just because he has to. He has a particular fondness for Liz’s thighs. And even if he isn’t going to spend alot of time with his face between them this time, he still needs to visit them briefly.   
  
Liz giggles softly, hands in his hair as he gives each soft thigh three kisses, each one moving higher than the last. Then he rises, fuses his mouth back on hers and pulls her right to the edge of the counter. He draws one leg up high. The other she wraps around him as tightly as her arms wrap around his body, under his shirt, under his arms, fingers digging into his back. Jack pulls back to look at her before he positions himself at her entrance and starts to push inside. Her head drops back, eyes closed, lips parted. Jack releases a low, long groan, which doesn’t finish until he is fully sheathed inside her.   
  
Liz grips him tighter, whispers his name and lays random kisses on whatever part of him she can reach as he as he starts to move. His thrusts aren’t frantic, he never wants to rush this. But nor does he start slowly. Workplace quickies are not the time for restraint. They have plenty of time to make slow, gentle love. Quickies are for hot, impulsive, passionate sex. And it’s times like this that Jack can’t believe he is the first man to ever feel so passionate about Liz Lemon.   
  
He knows she’s never done anything like this before. He knows no one has ever persuaded her to engage in a quickie at work before. Not that she took much persuading. He knows also that no one has ever wanted her this much. No one has ever wanted her like he does or given her pleasure like he does. It’s also moments like this, as he is deep between her thighs, nailing her with increasing force, that he is thankful that he is the man that gets to feel this way about Liz Lemon. The man who she feels passion for.   
  
He knows she does. Because of the way her face is fixed in an expression of ultimate pleasure. And he can’t mistake the way she holds onto him, the way she takes shelter in him, the way she urges him on. Liz pulls him closer and closer, until he is practically on top of her, until her shoulders are against the mirror and every hot exhalation of his breath when he is deepest inside her creates a cloud of condensation on their reflection. One of his hands moves to press against the mirror, propping himself up as she starts to tighten on him. The other is wrapped low about her slender hips. Liz has one hand between his shoulders, one just above his butt. Her legs are lifted high, hugged tight to his ribcage, her feet resting near his hips. She has pulled his shirt down off his shoulders and her mouth is open against him, her teeth grazing his flesh as she pants and clenches and clings to him. Jack gasps out her name, repeats it, thrusting faster and harder, hitting her clit with each plunge until Liz’s body buckles beneath him. She cries out a rare obscenity that echoes off the pristine tiles, but neither of them cares. Because she comes. Hard. Jack buries his face in her neck, grunts her name one last time and, after three more powerful thrusts, follows her to the brink and over.  
  
It’s a long time before they catch their breath. Longer before they recover enough to straighten and start cleaning themselves up. Jack kisses her forehead as he helps her down from the counter. Then turns away, pulling up his pants as she re-rinses between her breasts and between her legs. He tucks his tie under his collar but does not tie it, runs his fingers through his hair, watching her reflection dress herself in jeans, food stained bra and his oversized shirt. She meets his eyes in the mirror, gives him a little smile. When he smiles back, her small smile turns into a big smile. She moves into his arms, kisses him. Jack wraps his arms around her.  
  
“So…” he muses, voice still rumbly and hoarse. He sifts through her curlier than usual, still damp hair: “How long before you say something else stupid?”  
  
Liz snorts, pats his chest. “Oh, Jack. I really don’t think we need to worry about that. Couldn’t be too long.”  
  
“Tomorrow, then?” he guesses hopefully.  
  
She rolls her eyes, moving to the door. “I should really get back. Do some damage control.”  
  
“I’m just trying to plan my week here,” he adds, holding the door open for her: “Could you give me a rough estimate on when you plan to say something stupid?”  
  
“I don’t plan it,” she mutters: “It just happens. But you’ll be the first to know.” She runs a hand down his undone tie, his hastily buttoned shirt: “And hey,” she kisses him one last time, eyes glowing, cheeks pink: “…thanks for letting me use your bathroom.”  
  
“Anytime,” he murmurs. Jack watches her head across his office to the outer door. “And I do mean--” he calls after her: “anytime.”  
  
Liz shoots him a grin as she closes the door behind her. Jack turns back to the mirror, flicking one end of his tie over the other with a smug smile.  
  
_END._

Read the sister fic [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6604206/1/Three-Little-Words)


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